If democracy is to remain legitimate, it must not only defend itself but also meaningfully evolve. That requires expanding our imaginative capacity, not just our technical capacity.

The provocation: When we have concerns that something about democracy is not working (or is anti-democratic), it can be tempting to think that changing or reforming it will be inherently better, simply by virtue of it being different. In our field, process reforms are often treated as proxies for democratic renewal and strengthening, largely because they are new and contain elements of innovation. They are often worthwhile and can lead to more liberal democratic behaviors and outcomes. But if not carefully considered and thoroughly tested, even well-intended changes can result in increased bureaucracy, perpetuate the problems they are seeking to solve (such as entrenching power or increasing partisanship), or inhibit individual liberties (such as restricting speech or freedom of religion). 

Another temptation can be that when people want change, they may be willing to break rules or bend democratic norms to achieve it–or support leaders who will subvert democratic processes because they believe change will happen more quickly. 

It is worth remembering that “new” does not automatically mean “better,” nor does it inherently translate to better outcomes for liberal democracy; going “back to basics” can still be an innovation. Sometimes it might be innovative to keep something old and make sure it is operating at its best purpose and highest principle. What matters is not whether a reform is new or familiar, but whether it contributes to a healthier democratic ecosystem. This may require continuous revisiting of assumptions about what constitutes the “right” or “wrong” approach, depending on the context. 

The implication: The work of strengthening liberal democracy requires more disciplined experimentation, including developing shared indicators of what “more democratic” looks like in practice: whether a reform expands participation, enhances legitimacy, increases responsiveness, reduces distortionary incentives, or strengthens individual rights and pluralism. Without such markers, it becomes difficult to distinguish principled innovation from procedural change that benefits only certain actors. For funders, this means we may need to more intentionally support both the “research and development” and “measurement and evaluation” phases behind new ideas, and double-down on what is proven to work (and support the research and evidence that supports such claims). 

Further, adopting an ecosystem perspective allows the field to consider reform, protection, adaptation, and preservation as interdependent components rather than competing impulses. Such a systems-level approach encourages iterative testing, feedback loops, and humility about what we believe will work. Ultimately, democracy strengthens not through perpetual novelty or rigid tradition, but through intentional experimentation, guided by clear principles and evidence of what truly supports a resilient, pluralistic future.

A more fitting long-term goal may be to ensure the principles animating liberal democracy are pulled into the future, while being more open to different institutional arrangements. 

The provocation: During this period of democratic backsliding, actors in the pro-democracy space often frame our work as “saving democracy.” If the alternative is authoritarianism, saving it is a worthy, principled, and moral goal; however, it may lack some important precision and nuance. It risks defending a flawed system, rather than imagining ways to improve it or build a new one. We may not want to “save” systems and structures that aren’t working (or were never designed to work) for a lot of people.  

When we talk about democracy, often the higher-order principles we’re reaching for are 1) protection of individual rights and civil liberties; 2) balanced and constrained political power; and 3) the ability of people to have a say in decisions that affect them. Taken together, these principles represent the philosophy of liberalism. 

These principles can be expressed through different institutional arrangements (independent judiciary, legislature, etc.), processes (elections), and rules (due process, civilian control of the military). The design and configuration of governance structures matters less than whether the principles of liberalism are consistently present, practiced, and respected–in law, systems, and culture. 

The implication: A more fitting long-term goal may be to ensure the principles animating liberal democracy are pulled into the future, while being more open to different institutional arrangements. American democracy is fundamentally an idea – an ongoing, evolving experiment. Focusing on saving ideas rather than the system as we know it may allow for America’s founding principles to be more effectively realized in modern governance structures, and better able to respond to ever-evolving cultural and social norms (such as expanding civil rights and legal protections not present for all at our country’s founding). 

We need better mechanisms to more honestly and accurately discern whether actions are driven by principle or power– and whether both can be held at once.

The provocation: When considering what American democracy should look like in the future, the field often struggles with a tension about whether to “protect” or “reinvent” systems and institutions– whether the priority is “stability” or “transformation.” This is particularly true when we think change is happening so quickly or so profoundly that we aren’t equipped to handle it. 

This tension is often oversimplified in the binary of conservation and progress–a conservative impulse toward restoration and durability can collide with a progressive impulse toward transformation. But we would be short-sighted to think about this in ideological terms. 

Most things, people, and ideas cannot be reduced to a left/right binary or categorization on a political spectrum. History shows us political alignments shift every few decades, and new research suggests there are at least 17 axes of political polarization, not two. 

The reality is that the future will arrive regardless of our comfort with (or aversion to) change. The more we think about democracy in a political frame that sorts us into “sides” with “winners and losers,” the bleaker the future will look and the more toxic polarization and inequality will increase. Because the  current way we practice politics trains us to pick sides, not possibilities. 

Choosing democracy over politics and possibility over despair is ideologically radical work because it rejects the scarcity implicit in binary thinking often used in political structures that prioritize power and control. Futures and foresight provide tools for possibility.    

The implication: Protecting democratic institutions and reimagining them are not inherently at odds–but motives and objectives matter. We need better mechanisms to more honestly and accurately discern whether actions are driven by principle or power– and whether both can be held at once. Futures thinking offers a constructive alternative to binary politics—not to pick a preferred future, but to expand our shared capacity to see multiple possibilities. Scenario planning and the “three horizons” framework invite us to think about both “protection” and “transformation” at the same time (as well as what the liminal space between them requires). It asks “what is fit for the future?” and worth carrying forward, and what needs to be “hospiced” so something new can emerge for the betterment of all. 

The work ahead is not simply to protect or replace our institutions, but to clarify the values-based through-lines that connect efforts to reform, protect, and transform democracy. 

It is worth remembering that “new” does not automatically mean “better,” nor does it inherently translate to better outcomes for liberal democracy; going “back to basics” can still be an innovation.

The provocation: When we have concerns that something about democracy is not working (or is anti-democratic), it can be tempting to think that changing or reforming it will be inherently better, simply by virtue of it being different. In our field, process reforms are often treated as proxies for democratic renewal and strengthening, largely because they are new and contain elements of innovation. They are often worthwhile and can lead to more liberal democratic behaviors and outcomes. But if not carefully considered and thoroughly tested, even well-intended changes can result in increased bureaucracy, perpetuate the problems they are seeking to solve (such as entrenching power or increasing partisanship), or inhibit individual liberties (such as restricting speech or freedom of religion). 

Another temptation can be that when people want change, they may be willing to break rules or bend democratic norms to achieve it–or support leaders who will subvert democratic processes because they believe change will happen more quickly. 

It is worth remembering that “new” does not automatically mean “better,” nor does it inherently translate to better outcomes for liberal democracy; going “back to basics” can still be an innovation. Sometimes it might be innovative to keep something old and make sure it is operating at its best purpose and highest principle. What matters is not whether a reform is new or familiar, but whether it contributes to a healthier democratic ecosystem. This may require continuous revisiting of assumptions about what constitutes the “right” or “wrong” approach, depending on the context. 

The implication: The work of strengthening liberal democracy requires more disciplined experimentation, including developing shared indicators of what “more democratic” looks like in practice: whether a reform expands participation, enhances legitimacy, increases responsiveness, reduces distortionary incentives, or strengthens individual rights and pluralism. Without such markers, it becomes difficult to distinguish principled innovation from procedural change that benefits only certain actors. For funders, this means we may need to more intentionally support both the “research and development” and “measurement and evaluation” phases behind new ideas, and double-down on what is proven to work (and support the research and evidence that supports such claims). 

Further, adopting an ecosystem perspective allows the field to consider reform, protection, adaptation, and preservation as interdependent components rather than competing impulses. Such a systems-level approach encourages iterative testing, feedback loops, and humility about what we believe will work. Ultimately, democracy strengthens not through perpetual novelty or rigid tradition, but through intentional experimentation, guided by clear principles and evidence of what truly supports a resilient, pluralistic future.

The cognitive capacity to move beyond incremental thinking and into disciplined curiosity, and to ask not what will happen, but what could happen, is difficult to generate. 

Foresight work necessitates a significant “mental gear shift”— both in how we think and what we think the purpose of thinking is. 

• For most people, our brains are wired for incrementalism–to tweak around the edges of what we already know, believe, or can understand–not to think in paradigm-shifting, non-linear ways. This project forced us to confront the limits of our collective imagination–to recognize how easily human cognition defaults to what feels probable or familiar.
• Futures and foresight work is not about knowing what will happen, but considering what might happen; it’s not about making predictions with certainty, but it’s also not saying “well, anything is possible!” It is a constant balance between “stretching” imaginations and ensuring “relevance” in reality. It can help organizations make decisions now – but it is more likely to provide stronger analysis for informing decisions later. You can’t have definitive answers for things that are inherently speculative.

The exercise of foresight reminded us that “black swans” (events that seem obvious in hindsight but were unimaginable before they occurred) and “gray rhinos” (visible threats we choose to ignore) are not just metaphors; they describe the cognitive traps that constrain strategic thinking. Futures and foresight work are less about prediction and more about disciplined curiosity–developing the analytical and emotional range to interpret signals and question our defaults.

For several reasons, there was a lack of coherence about what “success” and “positivity” in a democratic future might entail.

One of our aspirations in undertaking this project was to surface shared, positive visions for the future of American democracy and to identify the innovations that might help us achieve them. Despite meaningful engagement, this proved elusive. The group we convened was intentionally diverse and pluralistic, and while that greatly enriched the dialogue, it also revealed a lack of coherence about what “success” and “positivity” in a democratic future might entail. In many ways, this is not surprising. A healthy democracy is a “package deal”; for any individual it will likely involve trade-offs between desirable and less desirable features. This makes it difficult—but not impossible—for a group to imagine what future success looks like. 

The willingness and desire to imagine together was present, but the deeper trust and relational grounding required for true collective visioning could not be built within the time constraints of a workshop. As a result, members of the group were able to identify specific ideas or preferences aligned with their objectives, but not the kind of shared long-term vision we hoped to co-create. Additionally, visioning exercises often benefit from a “limiting factor” to help constrain them in scope (such as a country or a city). It is helpful because it provides a shared frame of experience and guiding parameters for participants. The task of visioning for an idea makes the relational grounding that much more necessary. Were we to take on a project like this again, we would account for that in the design. 

We designed scenarios with intentional bright spots and constructive futures, but many participants did not experience them as genuinely positive or realistic (for very valid reasons). In the current political climate, “positive” futures often read as aspirational to the point of implausibility, or as partisan fantasies rather than credible shared destinations. This made it difficult for participants to hold a sense of possibility without feeling untethered from political and social realities. 

Finally, practical constraints played a significant role. The time, space, and cognitive openness required for rigorous futures thinking are difficult to achieve under the best of circumstances, and nearly impossible amid the pressures of an ongoing political crisis and increasing demands on funders’ attention. The very conditions that make long-term thinking most necessary also make it hardest to practice. 

What is carried forward is a deeper comfort with uncertainty, a stronger commitment to principled experimentation, and a shared understanding that the future can be influenced.

While we may not have achieved the goal of a “shared vision,” that was always a lofty aspiration. The primary purpose was to help funders adapt and apply the learnings and the experience to their own strategies and funding portfolios. And that, we accomplished. In our evaluations, 90% percent of participants told us they are “very likely” to incorporate what they learned into their strategy; 60% said they are “very likely” to begin funding futures-oriented work. 

This process also underscored that foresight is itself a form of capacity building. It demands time, space, and distance from daily operations–which feels like a luxury amidst current, urgent demands, but is crucial for deeper reflection. The outputs were not definitive answers but sharper questions and clearer mental models. In the end, the value lay not in forecasting outcomes but in strengthening our ability to perceive, imagine, and act with greater strategic coherence in the face of uncertainty. Imagination work is not a singular perspective or process, it’s a culture of provocative thinking–it has real gifts and limitations, and can be unsatisfying for those who hope the task will ever be “done” or an answer or plan will be made clear as a result.